The Trio
by Kali Kato
Summary: After the final battle, the three friends find themselves where they belong. Together.


The Trio  
  
by Kali  
  
PG-13  
  
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Harry felt like he never slept so well in his life.   
  
Perhaps, he decided, it was the company.  
  
Harry had awaken. He tried to stretch his arm (his elbow had a nasty ache), but his back was slumped in the wrong direction. To make the situation worse, Hermione's bushy, curly hair was driving his nose insane. He would sneeze and wake the whole dorm if he wasn't careful. Creaking his neck to the left, Harry found his face just above Hermione's--- her head buried in his arm and the scarlet pillow all at once. Her untamed curls draped over her chest, and with ever rise of her breath, soared into Harry's nostrils. He decided that he must be allergic to her shampoo or perfume, because he felt a small tickle in his throat. That, or he had the start of a cold.   
  
Harry tried very hard to remove his arm from Hermione's grasp, but with every strain, she seemed to hold onto him tighter. She was treating him like her own personal security blanket. He kinda liked it. Realizing Hermione wasn't about to let him go, he turned his attention to the end of the bed. Ron, outweighing him in more than height, was draped over the foot of the bed. His head dangled off the edge, and his feet had long been lost to the floor. From what Harry could see, he had a small line of drool leading from his mouth to the blanket.   
  
If Hermione was awake, she'd probably think it was cute.   
  
But Harry found it annoying. The fact his left foot was trapped under Ron's back was not helping his idea of Ron's drool at all. Trying to release his foot from Ron's grasp was almost as hard as trying to remove his arm from under Hermione's head.  
  
The two really were made for eachother.  
  
Harry tried not to grin, but it was rather funny. If someone waked in the dorm and found them that way, well, it would not be good. He could just see the look on McGonagall's face to find three seventeen year olds dazed and asleep on the same bed. Their clothes were torn. Dirty. Goodness, he was clad in a silk undershirt. It wasn't very decent. McGonagall would have a fit.  
  
Harry flinched.  
  
He would love to see the look on McGonagall's face. He could only hope she was still alive. The night before was the end of the war. Hogwarts had united... but at what cost? Somehow, by some miracle, himself and Ron and Hermione had managed to live through the terrible events. They had defeated Voldemort. He didn't want to think about it... but he also knew certain things had to be dealt with. Events had happened. People... friends had died. He was not sure if he could face it.  
  
What he wanted to do was roll over and cry. He wanted to cry for those who had been lost. He wanted to bury his face in the pillow and scream. He himself, wanted to die and let those who knew him live. Really live. Not live for him, not live the war. Live for themselves.  
  
But, it seemed, Hermione would not allow it. Her head was still buried over his arm, and her robes were tangled under the blankets around him, keeping him still. He had no choice. Shifting his body slightly, he took Hermione with him, trying not to crush her with his weight. He rolled over so he had exchanged places with her, so he now had the scarlet pillow under his head. Finally, he could bury his face into it and close his eyes and try and let the world fade away.  
  
Once again, though, Hermione would not let him.   
  
She mumbled something he could not hear and sleepily moved her cheek onto his chest, her arm across his stomach.  
  
He was once again trapped under her. And her hair.  
  
At least he had freed his foot from Ron's weight. Now, though, it was numb.  
  
Ron would be jealous, Harry knew that much, to find Hermione cuddled into Harry's chest so lovingly. Of course, Harry did not think of Hermione in that manner, but it was something new to him, having a girl strewn across his chest. It was kinda... nice.   
  
Harry peered down at Ron again, who had not shifted from his original position, drool still intact. His Chudley Cannon's shirt, which was one size too small, revealed Ron's stomach. Harry seemed to remember, groggily, that when they had come in last night--- exhausted from the battle and well worn in wits, Ron grabbing any old thing from his dresser and tossing it on. Hermione had watched him with a mock expression as he put on the small shirt, throwing his robes off in every direction. Hermione had refused to undress under the eyes of Ron and himself, and had stayed in her robes the entire night.  
  
Why, exactly, the three of them had chosen to fall asleep in Harry's bed last night was lost on him. He did know the three of them were far more powerful united then divided--- but how, exactly, Hermione ended up with him at the top of the bed, and Ron, uncomfortably no doubt, stretched across the bottom had occured.   
  
All he knew last night was that he was tired. He was worn out. He was exhausted.  
  
But, now, as much as he could be... he was content.  
  
Harry adjusted his cracked glasses to his face, which had been laying on the bedside table. Across the room the drapes to Neville's bed were hanging off the edges, and much to Harry's surprise, he noticed a mound of red hair tossed about on the pillow, half hidden in the darkness. He recognized the Hair as Ginny's. It was unmistakable Weasley hair. Harry strained his eyes and could see the plump form of Neville just across from Ginny. Her body remained under the blankets, but Neville's body laid across the top. Neville was such a gentlemen.  
  
He was happy, though, that someone had taken a watchful eye for Ginny. It also gave Harry a reason to smile. It seemed they were not the only ones with the idea to bunk together last night.  
  
Harry closed his eyes. Neville and Ginny were safe. That was two less people to worry about. Even better, he knew that Luna was also safe. He had seen her disappear behind the Ravenclaw Portrait, a lazy smile on her face. He had hugged her then, longer then he had hugged anyone else that night. She was, as most knew, very unique. He liked unique. He enjoyed their differences. He enjoyed Luna. He smiled again. That was three safe... three alive and well.  
  
Just then, Hermione moved again. She was dreaming, he could tell that much. She slumped off his chest and pulled the blanket around her shoulders, her hair covering her face.  
  
Well, at least it was off his nose.  
  
Ron had also stirred. Turning on his side he placed his hand (unconsciously) on Hermione's leg which had slipped out from under the blanket. Harry smirked. Closing his eyes, he turned and snuggled his head closer to Hermione's back. Perhaps, her hair wasn't as bad as he thought. Ron seemed to like it, at least. It was, afterall, part of Hermione. Harry took the time to slip his numb foot back under Ron's side. He wouldn't notice.   
  
He loved this. He loved his friends.   
  
He loved Ron and Hermione, and it was an even better feeling, to know that they loved him as well.   
  
Harry didn't know what would happen. What had happened. But, he did know, that in the end, all that would be left was them. Together. The trio.  
  
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The end.   
  
If you didn't notice, the pairings were: R/Hr G/N H/L (that's what I'd prefer, anyway)  
  
I dunno, I got this idea in my head and had to write it out. Hope ya'll liked it. I think it would work better as a fanart, but... well, just review. 


End file.
